The Power of a Name
by Tanchri
Summary: A chance meeting with the world's greatest detective pulls a nameless orphan into a game of cat and mouse between L and Kira. While she helps out with the case, she has to face the demons of her own past and can only hope that she survives her own game against a sadistic killer. T for violence and language.
1. Existence

**A/N: **Hiya, everyone! This is a story I thought up a while ago and I'm just getting around to putting it on digital paper. I have the entire story planned out, the only thing left is to actually write it, so unless I get lazy, updates should be pretty regular. I'm willing to change things around based on any advice or ideas you, the readers, have for me. I really like hearing what other people think, even if it is criticism! The story will be pretty dark and serious overall, but seeing as it's _Death_ Note, it's kinda a given. I hope you enjoy chapter one. Don't be afraid to review ;)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Death Note!

* * *

**The Power of a Name: A Death Note Fanfiction**

**Chapter One: Existence**

* * *

_"The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you, depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help are you freed."_

_(Hindu Prince Gautama Siddharta, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.)_

* * *

The girl peeled a wet sock from her numb foot and tried to rub some feeling back into it, careful of the raw sores from her boots. Blood, dirt, and puss stained the pale skin and didn't really help with the smell. Snot ran freely from her nose and over her cold blue lips. She absently wiped the mucus away with a stiff sleeve and sniffed. Her fingers shook violently; her heart was still pounding from the adrenaline rush from earlier. Salty tears mixed in with the rain dripping from her dark red hair, leaving cleanish streaks in the grime on her face.

She dropped the threadbare sock on the rotting floor boards and cradled her head in her shaking hands. The sobs came freely now that the day's events had caught up with her. The girl had never been so scared in her life and it frustrated her and made her feel stupid. She had no reason to be scared because she wasn't a real person; she didn't exist.

_I'm not real, nothing can hurt me. I'm not real, nothing can hurt me._

She rocked back and forth on her perch, her scrapped knees pulled against her chest waiting for the psychological pain to go away. The panic started to leave her body through the tears and the energy she was using up by shaking. Images flashed through her mind, refueling the fear she felt earlier and she took deep breaths, trying to convince herself it wasn't all that bad.

_The adolescent girl was walking as quickly down the sidewalk as her short legs would allow. Thunder rolled through the air like cannons and flashes of lightning brightened the ever-darkening sky through gray clouds. She had to get back to the den before it started raining; she couldn't afford to get sick again. A mix of wet clothes and cold, bacteria infested basement air wasn't exactly good for one's health. Last time she got sick, she nearly starved to death because she was too weak to get up and "borrow" money for food. _

_The boots she'd dug out of the dumpster were big on her feet and she could feel the beginnings of blisters on her heels and toes. The holes in her thin socks were growing and she realized she'd have to find a way to get new ones before it got too cold. It was better than nothing though and she learned to make do a long time ago._

_The girl jogged across the street, not bothering to check for cars. She was in the slums and not many people around could afford cars. There was no reason to even be there if you _could_ afford a car, either. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention and the girl glanced quickly over her shoulder. She caught her breath; she was being followed. Her stalker was making no effort to hide his intent as her glided across the street after her. _

_His clothes showed he had some wealth. He wore a black tailored pinstripe suit with a purple button-up and a narrow black tie. A dark knee-length jacket kept the chill out and he held a black umbrella in one hand. His loafers were polished so much that one could see their reflection in it. The man was fairly tall, maybe around six feet and his hair was dark and, surprisingly, a little out of place. It was his eyes, though, that really scared her. They were an ice blue and she could see cruel amusement dancing in them._

_Recognition sparked in her drowsy mind and her own eyes widened in fear. The man grinned maliciously at the sight. She picked up her pace a little, to a fast jog and glanced in a car mirror to see that the man had sped up as well._

How did he find me? Why the _hell_ is he here?

_Her panicked thoughts and a rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins sent her sprinting towards the den. The man followed easily, his long legs covering twice the distance she could. The girl's boots rubbed at the sores on her feet and she was half limping at the end of the block. She kicked one foot forward and the untied boot flew through the air and into the street. The other boot soon followed, but the action slowed her down and the man was gaining quickly. _

_Sweat dampened the girl's clothes and her lungs were burning from running so fast for so long. Her stomach began to cramp and she gave a strangled cry, trying to fight through it. She could hear his loafers pounding the sidewalk behind her and forced her sore legs to move faster. The den wasn't far now; the only problem would be getting there without him following her to it._

_The girl stopped suddenly and shot into the closest storefront. It was a restaurant filled with people and delicious, gourmet smells. Several well-groomed heads looked up as she burst through the door, but she ignored them and sprinted to the kitchen. The room was incredibly hot and crowded with men and women in white chef uniforms yelling for spices and equipment. She weaved her way to the exit near the back; shouts of surprise told her the man wasn't far behind. _

_The alley behind the restaurant was empty and the ground was slick from the now pouring rain; she was soaked in seconds. The girl slipped in a puddle and mud splattered her face, obscuring her vision. She tried to wipe away the muck and squinted to see the path, her knees aching from the fall. The rain covered any noise the man would have made and she was too scared to slow down or stop. She knew better than to look behind her. If you look behind you, everyone knows you're going to get caught. That's how a lot of local delinquents were caught by police; they looked._

_The girl reached the den window and risked a glance behind her, just in case. She didn't want him to find her home and if he did, she was as good as caught anyway. Lady Luck was one her side, though, and the man was nowhere in sight. Her panic subsided slightly and she squeezed into the basement window to her den, landing softly on her feet. Her heart pounded in her ears and she struggled to catch her breath. All she could do was collapse on the cold floor and cry._

It didn't seem like a terrible ordeal, really. All that happen was that a man had followed her, but she knew who that man was. He was the man who killed her family eighteen years earlier and he was back to finish the job as promised. She had never seen him in person before now, she was still an unborn child at the time of her father's murder and minutes old during her mother's, but she remembered him from the videos.

The man, Glyn Caradoc, had videotaped himself butchering her father. Her dad's limbs were hacked away by a dull kitchen knife and his body was ravaged by chemical burns and smaller, but painful, lacerations. The man only laughed as her dad bled and burned and screamed. The girl had had nightmares for weeks after seeing it. He was scalped just as he slipped away and beheaded, the remains of his body left on the kitchen table to rot.

Her pregnant mother had been forced to watch the slaughter, gore splattering her once clean nightgown. She screamed along with her husband, her arms wrapped protectively around her pregnant stomach. She had been close to her due date, only about a week away. Glyn knew this. He tied the girl's mother down and gagged her then performed his own version of a C-section on the poor woman. He reveled in the woman's agony and then, with the child out of the way, he gave her a fate similar to her husband's.

He left the newborn baby alive in the carcasses of her parents. He would hunt her down later when she was old enough to be a real challenge. Glyn called the police himself after he finished and left along with his videos. A few years later, he sent them and a photo of himself to the girl's current foster family. They kicked her out shortly after that.

The girl didn't blame them. She wouldn't want the prey of a sadistic killer in her home either. She had managed alright on her own for a time. She found the "den" in the basement of an old theatre and made it her home. She learned to steal food and money in order to survive, but only enough for that, never more. Sometimes, people would even give her doggy bags and change if she hung around restaurants.

Every night before she went to sleep, the girl would stare at the man's picture and swear on her mother's engagement ring –the only thing she had left of her parents- that she would get revenge on Glyn for what he did. Then she met him and she was scared. She was too afraid to even consider fighting him, much less killing the bastard. All she had been able to do was run and cry and she hated herself for it.

_Next time,_ she vowed._ Next time, I'll get you for sure you sonuvabitch!_

Deep down, she knew it was pointless. She couldn't do anything but hide and wait for whatever gruesome plan he had in store for her. She was weak and alone and wished she didn't exist. She twisted the chain around her neck absently staring into space. The metal engagement ring and key on the chain was cool on her skin and she held them tightly until they were warm and indented on her palm.

The girl sighed and curled up on her pile of moth-eaten blankets, trying to imagine a better world; a world where she wasn't real.

_If you don't exist, nothing can hurt you… _


	2. Leaving Home

**A/N:** Hiya, everybody! How's it going? First off I'd like to thank everyone who read the first chapter, even if you didn't like it or anything. I appreciate the effort :)  
I had a little bit of extra time on my hands so I got this chapter done a bit sooner than I'd hoped. I hope you all enjoy it! Don't be afraid to review ;)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death Note...

**To The Fall: **Thank you so much for your review; it totally made my day :) I really appreciated your advice. Truth be told I didn't put much thought into a motive for the guy and just kinda figured I'd cross that bridge when I got to it. After reading what you wrote, though, a TON of ideas flooded into my little head and now I think I have a pretty good idea of what his motive might be. Now it all depends on whether or not I can do a good job of writing it out :p If you come up with anything else to help my writing, I'd LOVE it! **~Vanri**

* * *

**The Power of a Name: A Death Note Fanfiction**

**Chapter Two: Leaving Home**

* * *

_It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you might be swept off to._

_~ Bilbo Baggins, the Fellowship of the Ring_

* * *

The girl shivered, nestling back into the mass of blankets. A foul smell drifted out of the bundle and she gagged, thankful that she hadn't eaten in a while. She had passed out yesterday before she had time to wash of the grime that built up for the last few weeks. The rain had definitely helped, but the shit was caked on so thick it'd take boiling hot water and three days to clean it off.

The orphan dragged herself pathetically from the meager warmth, using holes in the floorboards as handholds. Her muscles screamed in protest and she groaned.

_Another reason to kill that Glyn bastard; he made me work too hard._ She surprised herself with the lame joke, especially after her reaction last night. _I suppose laughter is the best medicine… yeah, right. _

The girl managed to crawl towards the wall with the only window. It was a tiny little thing, but it served its purpose well. She had made a system using the window so that she could collect and use rainwater. The street along the side of the building was dug out, sloping towards the window so the water would run towards it. The concrete of the sidewalk had been pretty crappy and broken up, so she just pulled up the necessary pieces and hid them in the basement. She set up the end piece of someone's old gutter just below the inside of the window and PBC pipes she "borrowed" as an irrigation system of sorts.

The rainwater would enter through the cracked open window, into the gutter, and down the pipes into a barrel (A prop from a production about pirates.) After some trial-and-error and "donated" duct tape, she had the system working well enough for her to have a decent supply of water. It helped that she was in England, too, and it rained all the time. Creating a filter system was rather difficult, though, and she made do with thick, and generally clean, rags to keep the worst of the "bad stuff" out.

Using the wall, she stood slowly, stretching her tight muscles the best she could. She staggered over to the barrel and eagerly dipped her head inside to see how much she got. She backed up a bit in surprise when she saw that it was less than a quarter full. It was true that some of the water probably evaporated over night, but the way it rained, there should have been more. She puffed out a cheek while she thought.

_Something must have blocked the pipe,_ she concluded bitterly. She looked around the piles of old props and costumes for something she could use as a ladder. Being short definitely had its disadvantages. Her gray eyes finally settled on the concrete slabs from the sidewalk and she grinned.

_I knew they'd come in handy some day!_

She alternated dragging and pushing the heavy gray chunks to the wall and strained to pile them on top of each other. By the time she had a decent tower, she was panting and her muscles killed. She vowed to put a bit more effort into her physical health in the future and climb up the tower. The girl still had to stand on her tiptoes to see inside the gutter and even then she had to feel around to see if there was a block.

Her fingers brushed against something hard and rectangular wedged into the pipe along with some leaves clogging the opening. With much grunting and cursing, she managed to pry it out. The force of the block coming loose made her lose her balance and the girl toppled backwards onto her butt. She flopped back pitifully wincing when her head cracked against the floor.

_So maybe that wasn't the brightest idea…_

She shifted her attention ruefully towards the object in her hand. It was rather small and black had a smaller clear rectangle in the center. A black circle was visible on one half of the clear rectangle and two holes were placed on either side of the window. She examined it curiously for another moment before throwing it onto her "bed." She'd figure out what it was later. She had more important things to deal with now, like getting the hell out of England.

First thing on her mental list of stuff to do was pack her stuff. The only bag she had was a canvass shopping bag someone left near a garbage can. She dumped the mysterious object into it along with the videos and picture from Glyn and she tediously folded the nicest of the blankets. There wasn't much else she owned and none of the theatre stuff was really all that useful.

_The theatre stuff… oh, yeah!_

The girl started sorting through the costumes piles for some decent clothes she could use. If she looked presentable, she might just be able to hitchhike out of England. She'd still need, of course, but she'd cross that bridge when she got to it. She finally found a decent ensemble, but instead of long pants, there were shorts. She frowned at them a moment and dug around again, finding tight-fitting black pants. The shirt was an old-fashioned white button-up, most likely for an 18th century boy. It came with a light brown vest with a bark brown collar and she found a pair of black boots. The getup was topped off with a brownish-gray conductor hat.

She nodded contently and carried her bundle back to the barrel. She filtered some water into a plastic cup and drank her fill before stripping off her old clothes. They stuck to her body and smelt terrible and she was all too happy to be rid of them. She stepped carefully into the barrel, trying not to tip it over and used the filter rags to scrub the dirt off. It wasn't like she'd need to clean anymore water anyway.

By the time she finished cleaning herself, the water was almost black and a bit on the thick side and her skin was red from being scrubbed raw. She climbed into the new, blissfully clean clothes, not having anything to dry herself with. The hat kept her tangled red locks out of her face.

The girl pulled the shopping bag over her shoulder and took one last look at the theatre basement. She felt a tinge of regret for leaving. It had been her home for years now, even if it wasn't a spectacular living environment. She gave a soft smile at the room, waved it goodbye, and climbed the rickety stairs to the ground floor. She swung her legs over one of the side windows and leaped onto the frosty dead grass outside.

She took a deep breath and walked away from the decrepit building, not looking back.

_Why is London so _cold!

The girl shivered for the umpteenth time, wrapping her arm around her slim frame. It turned out that costumes weren't exactly the best thing to wear in the middle of winter. Her teeth chattered together and she rubbed her arms, trying to keep some feeling in them. She needed to get her hands on a jacket or at least money for one. She hated to steal from people, but sometimes you just have to suck it up and do what you need to do.

She spotted a bench across the street and plopped down on it, pulling her knees up to her chest to retain some warmth. Her grey eyes scanned the crowds milling around the streets for some early Christmas present ideas. There was bound to be some jerk around that deserved to have his money taken; it made her feel less guilty if they "deserved" it. The girl spotted a prissy-looking blonde woman sneering at a bunch of teenagers window shopping.

_Bingo._

She waited until the woman started down the street to act. She pinched her arm hard to bring tears to her eyes and squeezed her eyes shut to make them run down her cheeks. She started sniffing and sobbing and looking every bit the lost little kid. She jogged after the woman and tugged on the sleeve of her expensive coat.

"E-excuse me, lady," she cried, clinging to the woman. She pulled down slightly on the coat, checking to see if the blonde's wallet was in the pocket. Luckily for her, it was.

"Get off, brat!" The woman pushed the orphan off of her and glared at the girl like she was a bug or something. At this point her eyes were puffy and she had snot on her face, so it was understandable, but still…

"B-but – "

"Get out of her, you stupid kid," She pushed a little harder and the girl dropped to her butt, looking as pathetic as she could. Satisfied she got the message, the woman started to walk away.

_Now._

The girl jumped to her feet and grabbed at the woman's jacket again, putting the most pressure by her pocket, twisting it so the opening was down. "Please, I just need-"

The woman grabbed the orphan's collar and leaned in close to her face. "Listen, you little street urchin, I don't have anything for you. Now quit wasting my time and getting your god damn germs on me!"

She shoved the girl back to the ground, but this time she didn't run after the woman. She just sat there pretending to cry for a little longer until the woman was out of sight. When the coast was clear, she stood, brushing off her pants and patted her bag, where the wallet bulged out.

"I win," she whispered giddily. The woman didn't notice her twist the coat so the wallet fell into her bag. The girl was never any good at the whole sneak-up-to-the-person-and-nab-their-wallet-without-them-noticing thing, so that was the best she could do.

She gave a little smile and turned to leave the scene of her crime, crashing right into a stranger behind her. She gave a yelp of surprise and stumbled back onto her butt.

_I need to stop doing that, or I won't have a butt anymore,_ she thought, wincing.

"That was stealing, you know," A monotone voice droned above her. The girl froze, her grey eyes widening in fear.

_Oh, shit._

* * *

**A/N:** So, who's this monotone stranger catching the "bad" guy? I bet you can probably figure it out :p I'm sorry if this seemed a little boring, but it really was necessary. Please bear with me!


	3. When Orphans Meet

**A/N:** Hiya, lovelies! Thank you all very much for your support so far; it really helps! I was a bit surprised to see how many people actually read this and now I'm even more excited to keep writing. I'm sorry it took a little longer than last time to get this chapter up, I've been extraordinarily busy lately! Anywho, enjoy and don't be afraid to review!

**EvilVampireDucky:** Your review made me giggle :p And since you said pwease, I worked as fast as I could! Hope you like this chapter :)

**Remmy18****: **Thank you very much! I hope I can keep up with your expectations :)

**Witch-Werewolf-luv-twi-loner:** I lol'd at your lol's ;) Thanks for the review and I totally understand the whole no sugar rambling thing :p

* * *

**The Power of a Name: A Death Note Fanfiction**

**Chapter Three: When Orphans Meet**

* * *

_"The women laughed and wept; the crowd stamped their feet enthusiastically, for at that moment Quasimodo was really beautiful. He was handsome — this orphan, this foundling, this outcast."  
__―__Victor Hugo, The Hunchback Of Notre Dame_

* * *

The girl's eyes stared straight ahead, not really seeing anything. Her mind was blank and her heart was pounding faster than normal. She was caught and this man was going to turn her over to the police. It was bound to happen eventually and she'd always imagined a huge chase, ending with her being lead away in handcuffs, her head held proudly. Reality, unfortunately, had other plans.

"Well?" The voice droned and the girl realized he'd been talking to her.

"Sorry?" she squeaked, still not looking up.

The man sighed. "Are you going to return what you stole, or will I be forced to take action?"

"I haven't stolen anything," the girl stammered, trying to crawl back away from the man. He followed calmly after her, the ends of his jeans dragging through the puddles. His sneakers were loose and untied, the laces dirty and frayed.

"I saw you take that woman's wallet," he accused in a bored tone. "It was a clever plan really, making yourself obvious like that. What you weren't counting on was that someone like me would witness your crime."

"Trying to feed myself is a crime?" the girl shouted, finally looking up to glare at the man; what she saw shocked her. A plain white long-sleeve t-shirt covered his thin and hunched frame. There were dark shadows under his deep-set black eyes; it was clear he didn't sleep much. All in all, this man was Glyn's exact opposite. That killer was meticulously dressed, handsome, and showed far too much emotion. The man before her wasn't ugly exactly, but he was far from celebrity level, look-wise. His face was devoid of any emotion, but boredom.

"Who are you?" she thought aloud and immediately shut her mouth. The man cocked his head regarding her curiously.

"I could ask you the same," he mused. "I'll tell you what. Return that wallet and I'll buy you anything you want from that diner across the street."

"Deal!" the girl jumped to her feet and sprinted after the woman, glad she had an easy out. The smart thing to do would be to keep running, never mind what the man promised her. If she kept the wallet, she could still get food and that jacket she needed and the risk of getting arrested was a little slimmer. Still, there was something that was stopping her from running away. She just couldn't figure out what…

* * *

The man, L, watched the girl run down the street, her hair flying behind her in a mass of red knots and curls. He was intrigued by the strange girl, though he couldn't quite figure out why. It was just a gut feeling, really, that she was somehow important. There was a mystery surrounding this stranger, a puzzle. As the world's greatest detective, L was not one to leave puzzles unsolved.

* * *

The girl stood on her tiptoes trying to find the bitchy blonde woman through the throng of locals and tourists. She thought it would be easy to find the lady because of her loud mouth and rude tongue, but she had been mistaken. She gave a frustrated sigh and folded her arms against the cold.

_I guess the universe is telling me to take the wallet and run…_

She turned to leave and bumped into someone… again. The girl backed up a bit and started to apologize, but was interrupted by an annoyed and angry tone.

"You again!" The blonde woman screamed. "What are you stalking me or something, you little creep?"

"Actually-"

"Get the hell away from me before I report you to the authorities!"

"You dropped-"

"Officer!" The woman started screaming.

"You dropped your wallet!" The girl shoved the leather money-holder into the woman's stomach and stomped away. She couldn't stand people, especially people like that; people who make assumption and then don't let you get a word in to defend yourself.

She weaved her way through the crowd, back towards the diner, broodingly. The man was waiting for her against the building they met at. He had a thoughtful, if a little gloomy, expression on his pale face. She paused and watched him for a moment, sizing him up. As far as she could tell, the man wasn't a threat to her, but she still had to be careful. She'd judged people wrong before and things didn't turn out very well.

* * *

"Done," L looked up at the girl approaching him.

"Excellent," he peeled himself from the wall and started across the street without waiting for her. He noted that she followed close, but kept just out of his reach, watching him in her peripheral vision. He didn't see the wallet bulge in her bag, boots, or clothes, but she could have just hidden it somewhere. L doubted it though; she seemed like a genuine person despite having stolen. He remembered what she had shouted when he accused her of being a criminal; "Trying to feed myself is a crime?"

Theories started spilling into his head about what happened to her to force her to resort to thievery to feed herself. She could be an orphan, a runaway; maybe she really was a criminal of some sort. L was itching to solve the mystery around the girl and started to compile a mental list of questions to ask that wouldn't offend or scare her off.

"You believed me," the girl said as she opened the diner door for L, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Why?"

"I don't recall saying I believed you," L replied, leading her to a table near the back of the establishment. The girl stayed quiet for a moment, hanging back even further than before. The detective didn't worry too much about it, though. If she was a little bit weary of him, it could be a good thing; he would use it to his advantage when necessary.

L slid onto the chair facing the room in his usual crouched position, knees pulled up to his chest and feet bare. The girl didn't stare at him like most people did. Instead, the girl simply sat across from him and tipped her chair back, propping her knees against the table and folding her hands in her lap. It seemed the girl had quirks of her own and L was curious to see what other things she did.

They sat in silence, watching and analyzing each other until a waitress came to take their order. The girl went first; she scanned the menu quickly and asked for a root beer and a whole apple pie. The waitress waited a moment before writing the order, not entirely sure if the girl was being serious. The poor waitress was even more surprised when L asked for half the dessert menu.

"I see you can read." L waited for the waitress to leave before starting the interrogation, using a simple observation to begin his first round of questions.

"Of course I can," the girl made it sound like he was stupid to think otherwise.

"And you became an orphan before or after learning?" L knew the question could provoke a bad reaction from the girl, but it was necessary to see how she reacted to certain situations.

"Before," she answered easily and without emotion.

"Who taught you?"

"I taught myself mostly, but other foster children and my foster families helped start me off. How'd you know I was an orphan?"

"It takes one to know one," L replied softly. Her expression changed then, though it wasn't what he was expecting. She didn't looked sad or pained, just curious.

"Interesting," L heard her murmur. She spoke again so he could hear properly. "What do you mean by that? I never had parents to begin with, so I don't particularly feel sad about not having them. What did you see in me, then, that showed I'm an orphan."

L could see the girl was lying, though not outright. She was saddened by the loss of her parents and she said she never knew them to begin with, so she must know something about their death's that hurt her in some way. Not growing up with parents, though, she wouldn't really be affected by their death since she didn't know them.

"You looked lost," he said. "I've only ever seen orphans with that sort of lost look. I had it myself, in the beginning."

"I don't understand," the girl frowned at him.

"Don't worry," L assured her. "You will figure it out."

The waitress returned with a friend and between them, they managed to carry L's massive order on their thin, yet surprisingly strong arms. They lay what they could on the small table and the one next to it, pulling them together. The girl thanked them with a shy smile and dug into her pie with the viciousness of a starved animal.

The waitresses left as quickly as possible and L doubted they'd come back if they could avoid it. He set about choosing his first dessert and settled on a large hot fudge sundae with every topping the establishment owned, so it wouldn't melt while he ate the rest. He held the very end of the spoon with his thumb and pointer finger and dug in. Halfway through, he decided on his next question.

"What is your name?"

The girl blinked at him in surprise, her grey eyes filled with confusion. L took note of her reaction, weighing between her trying to come up with an alias or being genuinely surprised by his question. He deduced that she really hadn't been expecting such a simple question and waited for her to answer.

The girl stammered for a moment, flustered, "I, um, I don't have one, I..." She trailed off a little unsure and gave him an apologetic smile. "Oh, um, your name?"

"Ryuzaki," he chose his favorite alias and finished off his first desert, moving on to a strawberry cake. "Why don't you have a name?"

* * *

The girl let the front end of her chair fall to the ground, jerking her forward. A lump grew in her throat and she bit her lip, trying to control her feelings. She had been doing so well talking to the strange man; it felt good even. Then he asked her that one stupid question and it all fell apart. She couldn't even tell him her goddamn name and when he asked why...

She remembered the video she forced herself to watch. The sizzling sound her father's skin made as it burned and boiled and the manic giggling that was never loud enough to cover up that dreadful sound. Her mother was always gagged and tied up in the back, watching and crying along with the girl until it was her turn to die.

"Are you okay," Ryuzaki asked carefully. She realized she was crying and quickly wiped off her face, wishing she hadn't eaten that pie. The girl shoved her chair back and raced out the door, narrowly making it to the street when her stomach forced up its contents. Her nose ran and her mouth tasted horrible. Ryuzaki, having followed her, hung back awkwardly. He had never had to deal with a sick and crying kid before.

"They died," she choked out. "Before I was born, that wretched bastard killed my daddy. He cut me out of mom's belly and then butchered her too. He burned them and cut them and tortured them. He made them scream and just laughed while he did it. The cops didn't catch him, they didn't even try!"

The girl felt something warm wrap itself around her and realized it was Ryuzaki hugging her. She wailed into his chest, like the little kid she was deep down.

"I promise you," Ryuzaki said, his voice thick with determination. "I will catch the man responsible and you will have your justice."


End file.
